


Three Times Two

by ladyflowdi



Category: NCIS
Genre: M/M, PWP, Total Porn Here, no seriously
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-04-24
Updated: 2010-04-24
Packaged: 2017-12-12 02:27:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/806094
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ladyflowdi/pseuds/ladyflowdi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He loves it, that perfect intimacy of listening to Tim panting and cry out curses, dropping his head forward and then throwing it back like he can’t decide which is better, straining so damn beautiful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Three Times Two

**Author's Note:**

> Posting this so I can have everything on AO3 -- giving you major side-eye, LJ, just so we're clear.

This is Tony’s _third_ favorite position: Tim spread out belly-down on Tony’s bed, twisting his fingers into all that rich Egyptian cotton as his shoulders flex under Tony’s chest. He loves it, that perfect intimacy of listening to Tim panting and crying out curses, dropping his head forward and then throwing it back like he can’t decide which is better, straining so damn beautiful. Loves feeling all that strength, the masculinity of Tim’s back, his hips, his thighs, underneath him, barely restrained. Tim gasps under Tony’s hands, especially times like these when his hips are flush against the sheets and he can’t get himself off; when all he can do is ride out the wave, tortured under Tony’s slow, even, deep thrusts. 

Tim’s gorgeous like this, all that pale skin pinking under Tony’s steady pressure, steady heat. His ass, though less of a handful now, is nevertheless just as perfect as its always been, and spread around Tony’s cock it’s _magnificent_. Tony loves it, because in this position Tim’s legs are closed tight and Tony can look down, watch as Tim’s perfect, wet little hole swallows him, and whisper, “Like this, just like this, I wish you could see the way you’re open around me, Tim, like the most beautiful little cunt,” just so he can see Tim drop his head and moan, voice shattered like glass on tile. He doesn’t play that often, not often because then it loses its kick, but it’s true, has always been true.

Today’s not the day for that game, not when Tim’s fingers are slipping in his own sweat as he grabs the edge of the mattress. He grabs it and holds on tight and Tony rewards him with a hard, screwing thrust inward, and Tim sobs, “ _Tony_ ,” and it’s music to his ears, _music_ because Tony wants Tim to scream that every single day, to have _this_ be the first thing he thinks of every morning, Tony so deep that he’ll never get out.

This is Tony’s _second_ favorite position: rolling over as soon as Tim starts to writhe, as soon as his elbows start to shake, because this is even better; on his back, arms full with a Tim so far gone he can barely track what’s going on. His ass flutters around Tony’s dick and Tim gasps, “Wh—”. The confusion gets him every time, the way Tim’s hands shake as he reaches down to touch the arm Tony has around his middle as if to make sure he’s still there, because Tony’s fucked all his brain cells down to fill his dick. Tony strokes it, long, once, and Tim all but levitates and the sound that comes from him is barely human. Tony noses into Tim’s sweaty hair, bites the tip of his ear, whispers, “Not fair for me to have to do all the work, now is it?”

If Tim could bitch he would, but Tony’s got him right where he wants him, so far gone that he’s barely even finished talking before Tim is sitting up, presenting Tony with his most favorite view. All those miles of the pale, pale skin of his gorgeous back lead down to that ass, _that ass,_ and Tony strokes a fingertip along the soft, soft skin edging between those lovely cheeks. He thumbs, ever so lightly, along the rim of his stretched hole. Tim makes that sound again and drops his head forward and writhes on Tony’s cock, circles him deep so Tony can slip that last, sweet inch in. It feels so good, so fucking good and Tony murmurs it out loud, “Good, you’re doing good,” and Tim looks over his shoulder. It’s the confusion that gets him, _beautiful_ , that so-loved face slack and pink with pleasure.

Tim doesn’t answer and Tony raises his knees up so Tim can brace himself. He does it to help Tim, but he does it more for himself, because shifting his legs up means that Tim has to cant his hips, and this time it’s Tony who moans. Like this, just like this he can see Tim’s balls, heavy and tight and so full, and he reaches down and around Tim’s hip, strokes them softly, the weight of them making every hair on his body stand on end. He shifts his hips and Tim does too, raises up and oh, fuck, _yes_ , back down and Tony keeps his hand around Tim’s balls, to help him hold them out of the way and because he loves the feel of them, how heavy they are, loves that he’s turned Tim on this much, loves the way they make him, so fragile in his hand, feel like a fucking _god_.

He watches and thinks porno could only wish it was this good, with Tim’s sweat sliding down his back, hair soaked through and those muscles moving under his skin. He’s straining again, taking his pleasure as he likes, moving his hips this way and that until suddenly his ass clenches down and Tony knows Tim’s found it, the sweet spot. He watches, mouth dry, as Tim leans forward, cants his hips even more and grinds down, gasps hot against Tony’s knee, and starts to move like a man possessed. He fucks as hard as he can, and Tony can hear him moaning, can _feel_ it against his thigh, can see it in the way Tim’s breathing, heavy and hot. He rides hard and Tony whispers, “Squeeze down, Tim, tight,” just to watch Tim’s hips falter, just to see him shudder. He does it, though, bears down and Tony is sure his eyes are going to pop any second, and he’s proud of himself when he doesn’t lose the game, when he reaches down to stroke over Tim’s hole. “Tighter. I know you can do it tighter, Tim.”

Tim moans and mumbles and it doesn’t even sound like he’s speaking _English_ anymore, but Tony recognizes his name in the jumbled mess that falls from Tim’s lips. Tony ignores him, gently, gently strokes the balls in his hand as Tim squeezes around Tony’s dick, and Tony feels it there against his fingertip, where they’re pressed together skin to skin. “Yes,” he says, praise, and encourages Tim to do it again with another warm, soft squeeze of his balls. “Yes, that’s good, just like that, Tim. Nice and tight.”

Tim chokes, “I can’t,” and forget a god – Tony’s the master of the fucking _universe_. “I _can’t_ —”

“Yes you can,” Tony murmurs, and thrusts up, hard, so Tim’s head falls back, so he makes another of those beautiful sounds. “I know you can,” and thrusts again, and again, and the time for teasing passes between one and the next.

This, this is Tony’s favorite position: he pulls Tim off his dick with a gloriously filthy wet pop and sits up, against the headboard. The wood is freezing against his back but he doesn’t care because he’s got a lap full of Tim, whose dick is just as swollen and purple and rigid as Tony had thought. Tim looks lost, drunk, but he scrambles into Tony’s lap, waits impatiently ( _hot, wet, panting against Tony’s neck_ ) until Tony can get more lube, can roll the condom down a little, and then he’s right where he should always be, around Tony’s dick. Tony doesn’t have to tell him – he remembers, squeezes down hard like he isn’t already inferno-hot and so tight Tony thinks he’s going to pop a blood vessel along with his eyeballs, but Tony says, “I want you to feel like you’ve been split open. You feel split open, Tim?” just to watch the fog deepen in Tim’s eyes, and the way his mouth trembles open on a silent cry. 

Tim grabs the headboard behind them, holds on tight and rides like a cowboy, and this isn’t the slow tease of before – this is the race to the finale, the last leg of the Kentucky fucking Derby, and Tony grabs Tim’s ass in his hands and spreads him wide, wider so Tim can feel the pull of muscle, so he can feel every inch of the way Tony’s loving him. Tim goes wild under his hands, thrusting harder and harder and they’re rocking the bed, and the headboard is slamming against the wall and the tears running down Tim’s cheeks are salty on Tony’s tongue. 

Tony knows Tim, _knows_ him deep in every way one person can know another, and he knows when Tim is about to come. He loses control – his face screws up and his eyes clench and his hips stutter, and Tony reaches down, bypasses that achingly hard dick and massages Tim’s balls because Tony loves it, _loves_ that moment when they draw up and that’s it, that’s _it_. He grabs Tim’s dick and strokes as hard as he can, and fucks him until Tim bites Tony’s shoulder and screams.


End file.
